The Battles between a Filipino and a Hybrid
by CamperMan501
Summary: A collection of random fights and encounters between me and Izaackjl. Starring various Sonic characters, read about when a psychiatrist and a warrior meet. *Read It's a Technician Thing and my review for it before reading*


Welshscot: Hello, readers! This little chap is just something me and Izaackjl whipped up. We will update this, but it will be random as we are focusing on other stories and real life stuff. Hopefully you'll enjoy it. Remember, this is a joint effort between me and Izaackjl so there will be different writing styles in the chap. I did take the liberty to check grammar and spelling, but I'm not the best at it so sorry for any mistakes.

Note: We don't own Sonic or any other elements of SEGA in our story. We are just writing this for fun and for the hell of it. I also advise you to read 's 'It's a Technician Thing' and my reviews for it to get some of the jokes in the chap; also because they're quite funny.

So...

"_Let __the __madness __begin! __Resume __the __folly!__—__Mad __Hare__—__Alice: __Madness __Returns_

The worst Hangover: Our First Encounter

*Izaackjl POV*

Two people were standing in the middle of the Metal City race track, eyeing each other, warily.

One of them was named Welshscot, while the other, yours truly, was named Izaackjl.

Welshscot was born a half-Welsh and a half-Scot. He had a broad sword in his right hand, which was out and ready to use, while a bottle of Scottish Whiskey was clenched in his left.

I was born a pure Filipino and was armed with a sheathed mammoth; which was sheathed in the strap on my back. In my right hand, I held on to a canister; filled with an unknown liquid.

"It seems you have accepted my challenge," Izaackjl said; unsheathing his sword from behind his back.

*Welshscot POV*

"Yes," I replied, in a proud manner.

Truth be told...I WAS BLOODY TERRIFIED!

I had literally just woken up, on my feet, standing in the middle of the Metal City race track with a raging headache and faced off against a person I've never met before. By a random guess, I'd say he was a Filipino; maybe a pure-blooded one at that.

I tried to dull into my memories, which seemed very hazy and obscure...

But then, it clicked. TD and I had just escaped the Capcom police; which gave me enough time to write the disclaimers I had needed to write a while ago. After we had sobered up, we decided to go and watch an Extreme Gear race.

My memory seemed to die after we had arrived, but I was sure that Jet had passed me a... Oh... So simple...yet so stupid. He must have spiked my drink; no wonder this place is deserted. Wait...not true. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that a few of the racers had returned, and were now waiting for me and the Filipino to battle.

And then I remembered this guy's name, Izaackjl. He had approached me after I had taken my first sip and I probably said yes to his challenge. He probably left to get his weapons, or he would have witnessed me scaring the wits out of the crowd and racers.

But back to my current dilemma; I was looking at a guy who looked just as strong as me, or even more, and had a flask full of some liquor. Meanwhile, my bottle was bone dry... I'm looking pretty ** at the moment.

Deciding to play for time, I placed my empty bottle in my pouch. "How about we see how strong we are, without the influence of alcohol!"

*Izaackjl POV*

I saw him place his bottle of whiskey in his pouch, while he challenged, "How about we see how strong we are without the influence of alcohol!" I swore that my mouth was agape after hearing what he said. I did not like what he said; I can't defeat him without my special liquid. SO I thought; I can't defeat him without it so I'll just use my bloodlust.

"Yes!" I replied. I thought that I just put my life on the line; seeing that he was an expert and this was my very first battle. I didn't think I had a chance.

Luckily, I'm easily influenced by my bloodlust. And my great sword was bigger than his, longer and wider. I can shield myself from his attacks but I can't dodge his attacks every time. My sword weighed more than my body and was wide enough to protect my back and become a back-shield.

Preparing myself for the battle, I went into my stance. Thinking of all the bloody tortures I could give, I quickly fell under the influence of my bloodlust, muttering one word, "DIE!"

*Welshscot POV*

It was one of those moments when I'm glad I took up psychiatry. I could tell what Izaack was about to do before he even uttered the first syllable of his battle cry. So when he charged me, when he swung his mammoth sword in a great arc towards my head, I was well out of the way. His sword crashed onto the racetrack, only stopping when the handle collided with floor.

As he pulled his weapon free in one single pull, I was backing away; my sword held out and pointing at the crazed Filipino. Due to the fact that my kilt wearing ancestors had been bloodthirsty berserkers, I knew that people under blood rage were best to be kept at a distance. Hurting Izaack would only increase his rage and I didn't want to make him stronger then he already is. It was a pity that my Welsh side, which is too go-easy for its own damn good, prevented me from going berserk too; that way I could fight him face to face.

Izaackjl was soon at it again. Every time he swiped for my gut, he gave a large, crazed roar that resembled the cry of a lion. But that was soon replaced by a sound that resembled a frustrated kid, as I dodged each and every strike with apparent ease. But he soon had me back up against the very edge of the track; which had a very nice view of a long way down.

Izaackjl gave one last roar, before finally having the sense to kick me over the edge. As I vanished out of sight, the Filipino gave a great, victorious cry of triumph. He walked over to the edge, his blood rage now trickling out of his system, and bellowed, "HA, YOU WEREN'T AS GOOD AS I THOUGHT YOU WERE, YOU SCOTTISH SHEEP S—"

CRACK

Izaackjl, who now bore an impressive black eye, was currently flying back into the centre of the race track. His mammoth sword had landed a good meter away from him. As the startled Filipino scrambled to his feet, I walked casually off the sidewall of the race track. Being an author of a Naruto story, it was no surprise that I picked up a few ninja tricks; like sticking to walls.

As I twirled my broad-sword in one hand, I looked at Izaack and said, "For the record, it's the Welsh who are the Sheep Shagers."

*Izaackjl POV*

I couldn't believe it. I had been sent flying back with a black eye! He said "For the record, it's the Welsh who are the Sheep Shagers" I was defeated. I was humiliated as so many people were watching our fight along with the riders. Sonic and the others were just sitting on their boards from a good distance, watching our fight.

And as I continued to stare at the Welsh-Scot hybrid, I heard Jet say, "Piffff! He's such a weakling! He's getting pawned so easily! I can take him out with my bare hands!"

Somehow that got me back into blood-rage. I looked down the racetrack and began to stand up. I slowly stood and walked towards my sword. Once I got a grip on my sword, I pulled it from the ground and pointed it at Welshscot and said in a dark voice, "For now...You have won. I'll see you again in our next battle. But first, I have to deal with a pesky parrot." I glanced at Jet. "Now, I bid you farewell!"

And with that I turned my back on the hybrid and began facing the direction of Sonic and co. I quickly tried to hide my blood-raged face with a smile. "Hey, Sonic!" I shouted, as I waved, running towards them.

When I reached them Sonic said "Where'd you get that sword?"

"I crafted it!" I answered. "Can I meet Jet?" I asked.

"Sure you can!" He said patting my back.

"Hey, Jet! Someone's here to meet you! I saw the parrot jump down from his board and I quickly said, "Sonic! It might be best to get your gang out of here. Tell them to get a good distance from here." He nodded, remembering the things Jet had said.

He and the others, including Wave and Storm, went to a safe distance from us; leaving Jet behind, which made the thief confused.

"So you're the kid who was defeated by Welshscot, huh?" He said while trying to keep up his usual, sneering tone.

"Yes...Yes I am!" I answered in a dark sinister voice. "Now, let's talk about something I heard from you." As I finished speaking, I gripped my sword tighter.

When Jet noticed this, and managed to put two and two together, he quickly did a wise thing; he ran like hell itself was chasing him. I swung my sword at Jet, narrowly missing his tail feathers, and roared, "Come back here, you pesky parrot!" As I made after the fleeing chicken, I smiled to myself. "Now look who's talking."

In the end, Jet got a few minor cut and bruises...and a concussion... and a bunch or broken bones...ya... He was now in hospital with broken arms, sliced ribs...or just to cut it short, he's in traction. The best thing about it was that I cut out his tongue when he fainted. After smashing it into a pulp, I gave it to my cats as cat food. Poor Jet! Still, that's what he gets for calling me weak!

**A/N: Cat food? Really? What a waste! Next time, just give it to the Tails Doll! He'll get Mary Shaw to make strawberries; much better than cat food! **

**Jet...**

**Welshscot: Ok, readers, I hope you enjoyed what Izaa and I wrote. It's nothing to insane...yet, but we will try our best for next time. Also, if you guys like nightmare on Elm Street or want to see a story were TD is involved, could you check out my new story, called, 'Of Dolls and Beds'. It's my first try at horror and I would like good or bad reviews! **

**Jet...**

**Welshscot: Ok, since Izaa isn't here at the moment, I'll say on his behalf that we hope you readers will have an awesome life, both real and fanficional. So, until—**

**Jet: ISN'T ANYONE SORRY THAT I HAD MY TONGUE CUT OUT, AGAIN! **

**Welshscot: Not really; I managed to get you a new one.**

**Jet: THAT'S NOT THE POINT! WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME WHO LOSES A TONGUE!**

**Welshscot: I don't know. I mean, it's not like your tongue is tasty. I doubt you've ever washed your mouth out in your life. Anything made from it would taste like a toilet.**

**Jet: WHY YOU SON OF A—**

**Welshscot: ANYWAY, thank you again for reading. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a certain green cretin that needs a lesson in manners. **

**And as I flashed one last evil grin, whilst twirling my broad sword in my hand, I finally finished my A/N; saying, "Bye, bye and have a great life :) **

**Now, just ignore the screams of an already beaten parrot and press either the review button or the exit button. BE WARNED: We hold no responsibility if the exit button is booby-trapped... **


End file.
